Comradeship Has Limits
by duchess-susan
Summary: Nobby has caused a riot and now the Watch are trapped with only each other for company. So basically lots of Watchmen, Beti, and Vimes has a limited supply of cigars.
1. Chapter 1

**My only defence is that this fic seemed a good idea at the time. We all love the Watch but this is my first fic about them so be kind-I know my Vimes is not brilliant. So...the Watch are trapped in the Yard as Nobby became Beti again. I have no idea where it's going, but who cares as long as the journey is enjoyable? I do not own the Discworld or its character's. R&R-please?**

'Why are we here, sarge?'

''Cos you wore your Beti costume down Short Street.'

Nobby sniffed. 'No law against me trying to be alluring.'

'I don't know what you was luring but it certainly wasn't all Nobby.' Sergeant Colon was sure there _were _laws against Nobby dressing like that, but then there were probably laws against Nobby as he was normally.

'Just 'cos you can't appreciate beauty.'

Commander Vimes was already tiring of their bickering and they had only been in the Yard five minutes. 'Nobby you caused a _riot_-'

'See, I _was _luring all.'

'Not like that. Every officer was chased back here as the mob asked us where our high heels were. _Every officer, _Nobby. Now we're trapped in here until it subsides and I'm prepared to explain to Vetinari what _exactly _caused the riot.' Vimes didn't add _and the mob were asking why there aren't laws to stop you wearing a low cut shirt._

'I'm not ashamed of what I am.'

Angua snorted. Sergant Colon tried to hide his face. Even Constable Visit stopped trying to hand out Omnian leaflets long enough for his jaw to drop, and for Constable Dorfl to begin arguing the case that when a god went silent meant that no one was there. It was the first time Washpot hadn't argued back. Dorfl was pleased that reasoned argument was winning him over.

Carrot came to the rescue. 'You shouldn't have to be ashamed, but perhaps subtlety could be tactful?'

'Tact and diplomacy are important at-tri-butes for a watchman.' This was Detritus, who was currently sitting with his back against the doors.

Vimes sighed and lit a cigar. 'So are well-honed survival instincts and the ability to run faster than the population of the Shades.'

Carrot frowned. 'The Shades are a rather misunderstood area, with many upstanding citizens who act in the best traditions of this city.'

Angua faced the wall, shaking with silent laughter.

'Carrot the best traditions of Ankh-Morpork are murdering indiscriminately, polluting a perfectly decent river and never letting anyone have anything on credit.' Vimes exhaled smoke, polluting perfectly decent air.

'Now, sir, that's simply-'

'Very true indeed.' Vimes finished the sentence before Carrot could launch himself any further into denial.

The jeers and catcalls of the mob washed lightly over the watch house.

**Review-you know you want to, and I'm not sure if I should continue this fic. If you want to see a chapter 2 let me know.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 is here-thanks to Fanless, and Reg Shoe makes an appearance. The Watchmen encounter their own cupboard/pantry and Colon gets frightened. Several kilograms of insanity were used in the making of this product. You have been warned.**

Angua was getting edgy. Hours had passed. The mob still shrieked and raved outside the door, but after Carrot asked them not to throw bricks the occasional tinkle of broken glass had ceased. Everyone was getting claustrophobic, mainly due to enforced confinement with people they didn't wish to see socially, only in the office. For eight or nine hours a day. And not any longer. Full moon was in a week's time, she thought so that's a mercy. At least I won't have to kill anyone. Unless Nobby tries to steal my clothes. Again. Beti had decided that perhaps a more urban look would suit her. Until Angua had found her rifling through her locker. And had growled pointedly to indicate that bloodstains were not fashionable accessories this season.

The Watchmen had realised that they were going to have to make do and live with each other for now, although, as Reg Shoe was present live was probably the wrong word. Part of this meant eating in the watch house. And the only food was either in the canteen or in the solitary cupboard, cool and dark, that some used. As one officer they had elected to brave the cupboard rather than the canteen. Lots had been drawn on who would venture in. Fred Colon had won the honour, or earned the penance, depending on your relationship with reality. Everyone knew that _no one _ventured in that cupboard, a commune for food, half-full of strange, ownerless and partially eaten substances, that may or may not be edible, and appeared to have generated themselves over the years.

Everyone watched cautiously Colon approached the door, badge thrust before him like a very small shield. Sweat beaded his forehead as he reached for the doorknob. And froze. 'Sir...' This was addressed to Vimes, who was leaning against a nearby wall and smoking.

'Yes Fred?'

'It _is _your watch house. And therefore your cupboard. You wouldn't want me to _intrude_ into your property would you?' Colon was practically squealing.

'I have invited you in. What are you so afraid of? A mutant Distressed Pudding?'

Colon actually whimpered. 'I'm a sergeant, I am! There are _constables _here who could do this.' Desperation stained the sound of his voice.

'But we were practising this funny democracy idea, to see just why Vetinari found it so amusing. And when you're name was picked out of Constable Shoe's sewing bag everyone _voted _that you should indeed be the one to venture in, after you made strenuous objections to the idea of allowing luck to I can see why Vetinari won't allow a democratic city. Someone always complains.' Vimes sighed. 'Just open the damn door Fred.'

Fred Colon closed his eyes as he opened the door. Shelves greeted the watching watchmen, shelves littered with unrecognisable _things, _on plates and in bottles. Something dense and lumpy may once have been milk. Now it was a nightmare-flavoured yoghurt.

Dorfl spoke. 'If Anyone Of Human Origin Attempts To Ingest Any Part Of The Contents Of That Cupboard I Am Obligated To Restrain Them, To Prevent Unacceptable Loss Of Life.'

'Vitalist.' Reg sniffed, then went back to painting slogans on some large pieces of cheap wood he had found lying around. In a bucket marked 'firewood'. The slogans read: 'Vital members of the community without vital signs' and 'People don't need pulses to have a heart.'

'All yours Nobby.' This was from Buggy Swires.

'There's always the canteen.' Carrot seemed perfectly cheerful, and any minute now would probably organise a jolly singsong or perhaps a game of indoor hockey.

'NO!' The collective voice of the Watch bounced from wall to wall before finding a chimney to fly out of.

Vimes reached for his cigar case, opened it, and found fewer cigars than he would have liked. 'Nobby you haven't been pinching my cigars have you?'

'No sir. Only smoke cigarettes.' At this point Nobby reached for the dog-end permanently encrusted behind his ear. 

'What _have_ you stolen then?'

Nobby put on his best 'I'm innocent guv, just unlucky, why I think the real thief headed into the Shades so there's no need for those handcuffs' face.

'Just give me the tea kitty now and we'll say no more about it. And put your uniform on, for the love of humanity.'

'I'm happier being myself, sir, and my shift finished a few hours ago so plain clothes-'

Vimes put his head in his hands. 'Those aren't plain clothes, Nobby, those are just tasteless clothes. It's not the same thing.'

Nobby tried to change the subject. 'Anyone fancy a game of Cripple Mr Onion?'


	3. Chapter 3

**All I have to say is read and review because reviews make me write faster and I like to know what people think of my fics-especially this one as I am not at all sure how this fic comes across. **

Night fell. It fell, mugged, into the gutters of Ankh-Morpork, collapsed with a splating sound into the river, and snuck into a building known as Pseudopolis Yard. Raised voices could be heard.

'That was not a triple onion! If that was a triple onion then my mother was a saint-'

'I'm sure myself and Constable Dorfl would know if your mother was sainted Reg, and-'

'Just 'cos he didn't win any money off you, Washpot-'

'Om forbids gambling as a stain on the altar of the immortal soul-'

'As There Is No God I Doubt Gambling Is Forbidden By One, But Gambling Is Immoral And Leads To Sinks Of Depravity,' Dorfl rumbled.

'What does the plumbing have to do with it? That's fifteen of my hard earned dollars that cross-dressing corporal has.'

Beti/Nobby smiled and batted her lashes. 'Well Reg, for _you, _I might give them back for a kiss from such a _well-preserved _zombie...'

It should not be possible for a zombie to go pale, but Reg managed it, through sheer shock, habit and terrible, terrible fear. 'That's alright, buy yourself something nice, a necklace perhaps, or some bangles.'

'Perhaps you should buy them _for _me, and give them to me as a gift. After all, just giving money to a lady could lead to talk, and I wouldn't want people to think that I'm _that _kind of woman.'

Angua had been listening in fascinated and amused silence for the duration of the row, but decided to save Reg at this point. The undead should stick together, after all. 'Nobby you are not any kind of woman, at all. You are, in fact a man, ' at this point she looked at Nobby and added 'at least approximately. Stop teasing Reg and ditch the red silk. It's not your colour.'

Nobby's face metamorphosed into indignant hurt and resentment. He looked like he would either slap someone or burst into tears. 'No one in this sodding place appreciates me. I mean I'm personally responsible for huge drops in unlicensed crime in the city-'

''Because you have to stop causing most of it when you enter the watch house,' Colon pointed out. 'It's hard to steal from people who're outside the building.'

Nobby's lip wobbled dangerously. 'Coming from you Fred, that's rich. Ha-you may not _cause _crime, but since you joined the Watch you've just been letting yourself become part of the furniture, never patrolling save for when you want a pint. I'd like to see you make an arrest, 'cos it'd be a first.'

'Sergeant Colon to you Nobby, and you knows that was out of order.' Colon wasn't angry. He knew what Nobby said was the truth. He just didn't want his nice cushy life being inspected because someone took note of his words. Besides he had arrested Rob 'Axegrinder' Tyler once. Admittedly Rob had been decapitated a few hours before, but it was still an _arrest._

'No one understands me!' Nobby wailed, and began to cry noisily. Everyone turned to Angua, in the unique helpless desperation of men confronted with a crying woman. She rolled her eyes. Why her? Carrot would be much better at this, it was a _people _thing, and he was excellent with people. He knew how to talk to them. She just knew how to rip their throats out.

'Look, Nobby, perhaps we would all have a better chance of understanding you if you weren't dressed as a woman.'

'For all you lot know I could be a woman really.'

Angua's brain took a few seconds to reboot after _that _crash.

'I mean mentally I could be a woman, and that would explain why everyone has hesitated before calling me a man.'

Angua wondered how to tell Nobby that it was his species that was questioned, not his gender. Everyone else in the room had suddenly developed an absorbing interest in filing papers in the filing cabinets rather than using the wastepaper basket, or for _really _important documents, the floor.

'But after all these years why change?' Is that really the best I could do, she wondered. Immediately she knew the answer was a definite yes.

'I reckon everyone needs a change sometimes. A bit of variety like.'

'Not that much, Nobby.'

**Review-go on tell me what you think.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry, but this is what my mind is churning out at the moment-I promise the next chapter will be an improvement. Let the tea war commence...May my figgin be toasted for such a ridiculous scenario. **

Vimes was having some difficultly with the situation. He was trapped in Pseudopolis Yard, with his Watch, all because one of the members of said Watch had decided to wear provocative clothing. Okay, so maybe Nobby's outfit wasn't to provocative on its own, but when it came into contact with him...

The newest problem was staring him in the face. Even Carrot was looking worried. And in the middle of the room, lying innocently on a desk, was the cause of it all...Was it a small incendiary device hurled by the mob? No. Was it a message from the tyrant of Ankh-Morpork? No. Was it Nobby's filthy uniform? No. It was a teabag. _The _teabag. The _last _teabag. Each officer (excluding Angua and Nobby, who had disappeared for 'girl talk') eyed it nervously.

Every police force in the multiverse is the same. Each policeman is a die-hard caffeine addict who would sell his soul for a cup of tea, and, if they were a hard bargainer, a chocolate biscuit. Tea kept the Watch functioning. After the best part of twelve hours trapped in the Yard, the watchmen chain-drinking mug after mug of gloriously awful tea, this teabag was the last survivor.

'Perhaps we should share out the last cup?' Carrot was still trying to be fair.

'What's the point in that? There's too many of us.' Constable Visit was apparently permitted by Om to drink tea. It was his only vice. He wondered if he could stage a diversion with several hundred interesting religious pamphlets, and grab the teabag while everyone was busy complaining. Or in the case of Dorfl, actually reading the things.

'Whatever happened to "Om will provide"?' Colon was in a bad mood. When he closed his eyes he could still see the contents of The Cupboard-where food went if it committed lots of very interesting and intricately evil sins.

'There has been no precedent for him providing tea, although I believe he once supplied the devout with cocoa on the Mount of Brutha.'

Vimes was the only (human-trolls and golems don't drink tea) one who wasn't particularly bothered by the tea crisis. Just so long as he had some cigars. Unfortunately the one he was smoking now was the last. He had his arms firmly planted on either side of the desk, so that he loomed over the teabag. He had heard of cabin fever and was pretty sure that was what he was witnessing right now, as a huge argument began to sprout. The argument consisted of such wide subjects as who had the greatest rights due to rank, seniority and respect, who needed a drink the most, whose ancestors performed various distasteful deeds and who stole whose stationary last week. Tempers became inflamed. Which was when Sergeant Colon tried to pull rank and told Reg Shoe that the undead didn't need to drink _anything, _let alone tea. At which point the entire thing became a huge brawl.

Someone slammed into Vimes. His lit cigar collided with the teabag and the smell of burning tea filled the air. When Angua and Nobby re-entered the room it was to find Constable Dorfl, Sergeant Detritus and Captain Carrot trying to keep order.

Carrot was restraining Vimes, who was bellowing 'My last bloody cigar and some absolute idiot goes and ruins it. WHO THE HELLS PUSHED ME INTO THE DESK?'

Detritus raised a massive fist, which happened to be holding Visit. 'Sorry sir, but I'm afraid dere was a lot of shoving.' He shook his head sadly. 'Some people don't know how to behave.'

Vimes took a deep breath. 'It's okay. After all you will all _suffer _in about twenty minutes time when I really _need _a smoke.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter five and Vimes has no cigars, Colon is angling for overtime pay and Carrot is cheerful as ever. As always I would appreciate reviews-tell me what you think of telepathos, please. Oh and Fanless gets the blame for Nobby's comments about frigid zombies. Yes I said frigid zombies. Have fun with that mental image.**

It was freezing in the Yard. Even Nobby had felt the cold badly enough to change back into uniform. It was almost worth being cold to get rid of Beti. The last of the firewood had been burnt an hour ago. Before it had entered the fire it had proclaimed 'Zombies were people too.' Reg had been very upset. Zombies don't _need _heat, and Reg was struggling to understand why a bit of cold warranted the destruction of a vital part of his campaign on behalf of the undead.

'This is Ankh-Morpork. Why haven't the mob got bored and wandered off to a suicide or a robbery yet?' Angua couldn't believe that this was the most interesting piece of street theatre currently available.

'Because anyone who would have committed any interesting crimes is, in fact, watching us to see what will happen next.' Vimes was making an effort not to lose his temper. What he needed to keep it was a cigar. The cigars lay _outside. _Beyond the mob. Inside were his officers. And hence Nobby. And therefore Nobby's eternally present dog-end. Somehow, though, Vimes could never, ever need a smoke _that _badly.

Carrot was annoying everyone by remaining terribly cheerful. 'Well there's an upside then. Despite being trapped inside we're still preventing crime. Still doing our jobs.'

Sergeant Colon brightened up. 'Does that mean we get overtime for this then? Only the wife has been on at me, apparently we need a new kitchen, and -'

The Watch saw this golden opportunity. Eyes gleamed with an insatiable avarice peculiar to those whose wages are paid for by a government. Vimes had to step in before he became involved in an internal riot as well as an external one.

'If you want overtime you'll have to ask Vetinari.'

The greed faded from their faces, to be replaced with resentful bitterness.

'Makes sense,' Nobby muttered, 'it's always us what gets the hard time.' Everyone proceeded to glare at him, in an attempt to telepathically communicate that as it was his fault anyway perhaps any extra pay should come from _his _wages_. _What they succeeded in doing was _telepathetically__* _informing him that should Beti make a reappearance she would be cast out for the mob to deal with.

Once again Carrot tried to lift the mood. 'We should be glad to have an opportunity to help our city selflessly.'

No one had the spirit to start an argument with him. In fact Dorfl even _agreed. _'Captain Carrot Is Correct In His Surmise. We Should All Be Grateful For A Chance To Be Of Use To Ankh-Morpork.'

The silence that followed this sentence was broken by Reg muttering. 'Once again the living trample on the vitally challenged. So what if they need firewood, _I _need formaldehyde but you don't hear _me _asking them to give up any they happen to have handy.' He shot a filthy look at the rest of the room, and zombies are experts on filthy looks.

Colon was looking thoughtful. This meant that the amount of intellectual activity he was experiencing had exceeded Detritus levels.

'If the mob won't move then what do we do?'

'Wait for Vetinari to send some of the Palace Guard down.' Angua could see it now. They would all have an appointment with the Patrician. Being cooped up together was the _easy _part.

'Ah. But couldn't we just read them the riot act?'

'Beti did that.' This was Reg.

Nobby scowled. He missed his Beti clothes. 'Oh just 'cos I won that money off you. I _told _you what you'd have to do to get it back, but you're so _frigid.' _Nobby was alternately leering and batting his eyelashes. It was the most frightening thing Vimes had ever experienced-including werewolves, dragons and gonnes. 'Do all zombies lack that red-blooded-'

Angua, Vimes, Visit and Colon all tried to head that sentence off at once.

'Did anyone hear about-'

'Don't suppose anyone's seen my cigar case-'

'I got some new pamphlets printed yesterday if anyone's interested-'

'My wife has an obsession with what she calls 'home improvement' but-'

Dorfl was the first one to recover. Actually, technically, he didn't have to recover, because unlike the humans in the room he wasn't suffering from the kind of intense shock, rage or sheer, incoherent embarrassment that manages to fuse the whole mind into one frozen mass. 'I Would Appreciate A Pamphlet Please Constable Visit.'

The Watchmen watched as Visit fumbled on his desk for a leaflets, which he thrust at the golem.

'Thank You. I Shall Enjoy Using Logic To Dismantle Your Beliefs.'

'Good. Good.' Visit's mind was refusing to resume normal function. His eyes kept sliding from Nobby to Reg. It was all making some kind of horrific sense. Nobby was never going to be attractive to someone who was still alive, but Reg was _dead. _Dead people can't be as choosy, or run as fast. Visit was extremely certain Om would disapprove, but then Om had probably never encountered something so terrible, else he would have declared _himself _an atheist and stopped being a god.

*Telepathetic powers are far commoner than telepathic ones. Use of telepathetic powers, or telepathos works like this: when someone is feeling particularly put upon, unfairly treated or is just exceedingly angry that they have been forced into a situation because of another's actions they begin to tap into usually unused areas of the brain that deal with telepathos. These areas of the brain begin transmitting resentful/snide/malicious/creatively violent messages to the person said brain thinks is to blame. Receivers of the message then begin to feel rather guilty/awkward/paranoid/frightened. All this is done in the hope that the transmitter of the message feels better when the reason for their mental state starts behaving in an odd and often comical manner because of a nagging feeling that the world is out to get them. Telepathos has been responsible for nervous breakdowns, unexplained paranoid behaviour (or UPB) and inventive office assaults+ all over the cosmos.

+ Involving the misuse of all _sorts _of stationary. Never upset an office worker. The things they can do with a hole-punch don't bare thinking about.

**How was it?**


	6. Chapter 6

**The Watch are given roommates and various conversations ensue. Enjoy. And review please.**

Angua had no idea how it had happened. Everyone had decided they should get some sleep now they were used to the sound of the mob (and in the case of Vimes, actually found it soothing-it reminded him of his childhood. Which explains a lot). They had all agreed to go off to rooms in pairs, for safety. Carrot had voiced the opinion that it was improper for her to sleep in a room with _any_ of the men, including himself. The other officers were scared to sleep in a room with Detritus in case he rolled over. So the two had become roommates. The trouble was that Detritus was feeling talkative.

'An-gua?'

'Yes Sergeant?'

'Why was everyone laughing at Reg earlier? When Nobby started talking about blood tem-prat-ures and dat.'

_Oh gods why me? Detritus can't seriously be asking this, surely. First Nobby, now THIS. _Out loud she said 'Nobby was being inappropriate. Best ignore him.'

'But den I'd have to ignore him all dah time.'

Angua groaned, but tried to stifle it with her fist. 'Just ignore him when he leers, okay?'

'Right. Most of dah time. Got it.'

Angua stopped trying to correct the troll. _Just let him drop it. Please please please. _

'What if Nobby calls me red-blooded? 'Cos trolls aren't. We is silly-con-based lifeforms. Dat's _different.'_

Angua almost screamed. 'Look even _Nobby _wouldn't call you that. So you can forget about it and stop worrying.'

'So everyone knows 'bout trolls den.'

'Oh yes. Goodnight.'

'Night. What if he mentions-'

'GOODNIGHT!'

***

'Fred.' Vimes was feeling the lack of cigars. He felt the need to talk to somebody. He chose his best-well oldest at least-friend, Fred Colon. Mainly because Colon was geographically convinient, lying only a yard away and being the only other occupant of the room. But partially because he'd known him years.

'Sir.'

'Do you remember what the Watch was like? In the pre-Carrot days.'

'Yes sir. Total shambles sir. Just me and Nobby and you, of course, in the end.'

'Yes, that's what I'm talking about.'

'Mind you, we ate more figgins then.'

'Forget the figgins.'

'From that lovely shop down Filigree Street, they used to give us free coffee sometimes-.'

'FORGET THE FIGGINS.' Vimes lowered his voice. 'That's an order sergeant.'

Sergeant Colon was disappointed to be moving away from food-based matters. He was hungry. Vimes carried on.

'Well you remember how I was then. And you remember why I was that way.'

'Ah. Yes. A woman.' Colon tried to look knowing but had to settle for foolish.

'Yes. And you know how I've always hated vampires?'

'Ah. Yes. You've always been a fair-minded man though. Otherwise I mean.'

Vimes just looked at him. 'Anyway...those facts weren't caused by different sets of circumstances, alright? I mean, when I was young, and bloody stupid I courted a vampiress.' He saw Colon's face. 'When you're young all that immortality and children of the night business is very attractive, okay? Just let me tell you everything before you pass comment.'

'Right sir.'

'Good. Anyway I thought she was actually attracted to me. I'd been seeing her for a while, when we went to this restaurant. And when we were there she got _hungry._'

'That's what you do at restaurants sir.'

'Not if you're a vampire. Anyway, she went for me. I had to take her out with the garlic bread. The restaurant banned me for life.'

'That's terrible sir. But why are you telling me now?'

'Because the lack of cigars is getting to me. And if you tell anyone that I will do to you what I do to assassins.'

***

Visit and Dorfl were awake too.

'You Still Persist In The Belief That Your God Is Everywhere When It Is A Patently Ridiculous Suggestion.'

'But if Om is a god then he _can _be everywhere at once. It's a god-like thing to do.'

'A God Like Thing To Do Is Squabble Relentlessly And Pointlessly With Your Fellow Deities.'

'Yes but Om is _different.'_

'I Agree. He Is Different Because He Is Better Than The Others.'

'Ah-ha!'

'Because He Acts Immorally Through Absence Instead Of For Amusement.'

'What?'

'He Allows Terrible Things To Happen On The Disc Because He Is Not Around To Stop Them, Instead Of Being Able To Prevent Them And Yet Letting Them Happen Because It Is Easier And More Fun Than Stopping Them.'

'Om does not let truly, irredeemably bad things happen.'

'What About Corporal Beti?'

Visit had to concede that Beti didn't appear to have any concieveable saving graces.

***

Reg and Nobby had been forced into roommateship too. Reg was not happy, but managed to fall asleep before Nobby could say anything to him. In fact Corporal Nobbs had seemed distracted.

The reason why became obvious when Reg awoke. Nobby had found, and changed back into, his Beti clothes.

Beti saw him wake up. 'Reg I'm really sorry that I called you frigid yesterday.'

'That's alright.' Reg wanted this conversation to end RIGHT NOW.

Beti grinned demonically. 'You kept me up all night. Wait 'til I tell the lads.'

'What?!'

'You snore very loudly.'

'Oh. Sorry.' Reg was not feeling particularly well-balanced. Possibly the worst thing anyone could ever wake up to find in their bedroom is Corporal Nobbs. The women's clothing did not help.

Nobby/Beti was still staring at him. 'You're so sweet when you're half asleep, your nose wobbles, sort of like it's going to fall off...oh there it goes.' Nobby said all this in a brutally cheerful voice. 'There's something so attractive about a man who knows how to sew.'

Reg wondered what he had done to deserve this.


	7. Chapter 7

**Things are, I think, coming to a close. Ish. Hope everyone liked it. Many thanks to Fanless for all the advice, suggestions and inspiration. Yes, inspiration-the Reg/Beti scenario is down to him.**

The sun had risen, as had the Watchmen, bleary-eyed and in several cases slightly disturbed by the events of the previous evening.

Vimes had taken control.

'What we are going to do is...Nobby why are dressed in _that _again?'

Nobby pouted. 'Celebrating my femininity sir. Besides Reg prefers me like this, don't you, sweetheart?'

Every officer felt their brain melt. Even Reg, for whom this was news. All the other officers knew was that it had certainly been a long and lonely night...

Carrot made a spirited attempt to regain control. 'You were saying, sir?'

'Ah. Yes. We are all going to leave this building and do our best to disperse the mob.'

'Permission to say behind as a reserve force, sah!'

'No Fred. We all leave.'

'Permission to hide behind Sergeant Detritus.'

Vimes sighed. 'Granted. Beti will lead us out.'

'What?' Beti looked horrified. The expression was very democratic-it spread the horror to those who witnessed it.

Vimes was suffering. He hadn't had a cigar in _hours. _He was not in the mood to be tolerant.

'Then Reg can escort you out.'

Reg gibbered. 'But, we didn't, it's not, I won't, Beti has no proof, LAST NIGHT WAS COMPLETELY UNEVENTFUL,' the zombie wailed.

The Watch stared at their feet. Visit _knew _his suspicions were right.

'We'll all follow you, don't worry.' Carrot smiled, honestly.

Reg and Beti turned to each other.

'You and me against the world, Reg.' Beti grinned.

'Just shut up.'

Together, and followed by the rest of the Watch they threw open the doors, to face the mob.

'Where the hells are the mob?' Vimes was furious. He _really_ wantedto hit someone, in the name of the law, of course.

Angua nodded to a plume of smoke. 'The Alchemist's Guild has exploded again.'

Vimes drew a hand over his face. 'Okay. Anyone who was supposed to be on duty today get back inside and go do your job. Fred go and clean out that damn cupboard, I didn't even realise things like that _existed. _Nobby please leave your Beti clothes at home, or, preferably, send them to hell. Reg you are already dead, you can only try to commit suicide, so I expect to see you here at eight AM tomorrow for your next shift. Constable Visit would you please start patrolling with Dorfl and if I see one more pamphlet in my office you will be made Nobby and Reg's chaperone. Carrot and Angua would you please run this place, until I return from seeing Vetinari. If I survive the explanation.'

Vimes could feel normality being restored as he gave the orders. He smiled grimly. 'But first I'm going to get some cigars.'

It was another crime-filled day in Ankh-Morpork.


End file.
